New crop of young stars invade Bombay film industry, spark off major new trend

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It is the day of the starlets. Suddenly, they are everywhere, both the male and the female of the species, like an invading swarm of fireflies in the gloomy Bombay film industry. Collectively, they represent more than just a generational change in tinsel town. Brash, savvy, street-smart, daring and above all, younger.

Splashed across the pages of film magazines, spouting adolescent philosophy, baring nubile flesh and thumbing their pert noses at the establishment, these young things are seen as much as they are heard. Farha 18, Mandakini, a self-professed 17, Khushboo, 16, Neelam, 16, Kimi, almost ancient at 22, and the youngest of the bumper crop, Sabia, 14; and the men, starlings for want of a better word, like Govinda, the new heartthrob, Rohan Kapoor, Aman Wirk, Karan Kapoor, Karan Shah, Sumeet Saigal, Rajan Sippy, all in their early 20s, are the most visible symptom of the teenage transfusion that has energised the industry like never before.

"The youngsters have arrived. They were not born in the industry, but they have arrived just the way that television and video did."Basu Bhattacharya, director

"I do not want Neelam; she is already exposed. Padmini Kolhapure has been raped so many times on screen; she has even been a mother. I want to show the truth with fresh faces."Sawan Kumar, director

They have come, but it cannot be yet said that they have conquered. In fact, they have literally arrived out of the blue. "The youngsters have arrived. They were not born in the industry, but have arrived just the way television and video did," says director Basu Bhattacharya. Princes and princesses of the celluloid kingdom with their cardboard crowns and it is unlikely that any of them will reign over this kingdom as did Hema Malini or as Amitabh Bachchan still does. Chances are that these new starlets crowding the celluloid firmament will sizzle briefly then fizzle, like shooting stars, only to be replaced by others.

But the influx continues and at a furious pace. Producers hunt for fresh faces with the desperation of those who have run out of ideas. Two months ago, director Sawan Kumar Tak (Souten) put out a Rs 36,000 ad in a Sunday paper for girls under 18 and men under 21 for his new film. He was flooded with 3,000 applications. Asked why he did not use any of the existing starlets, he said: "I do not want Neelam; she is already exposed. Mandakini does not look like a virgin. She has another aura about her. Padmini Kolhapure has been raped so many times on screen. She has even been a mother.

It would look like a lie and I want to show the truth with fresh faces." Roshan Taneja, who runs an acting school in Bombay, says he gets an average of one call a day from producers or directors in search of a new face and the younger the better. Gautam Rajaydhyaksha, photographer for Lintas, says he is under similar telephonic siege. There is room for these teenagers because the film industry is battling through its worst crisis in recent memory. The established stars look jaded.

Govinda and Khushboo in Tan-Badan

"It is a catch-as-catch-can situation. There are no stars," says director Shyam Benegal. Rekha, Rajesh Khanna, Dharmendra, Zeenat Aman, Hema Malini, even Jeetendra, none of them have the kind of drawing power they once exercised. Amitabh Bachchan is the only sure bet, but in his new avtar as politician is less committed to films. Even the fallback formula of the multi-starrer, mammoth budget films likeSinghasan, Sultanat, Dharam Adhikari or normally safe emotional films like Swati no longer seems to work. To make matters worse, the film industry is quite steeply in the red. With escalating costs of theatre rentals as well as production, investment in the industry has been Rs 200 crore but the returns are only Rs 90 crore, according to Amit Khanna. Producers are desperate for a new formula and few have any idea what it should be. Admits veteran producer director L. V. Prasad: "I am totally confused. I do not know what kind of films to make any more."

"There is a geriatric problem in the industry. It has lost the ability to throw up new dreams and has aged all the way down the line."Amit Khanna, producer

"The 9 p.m. audience is lost to television. The upper class have their VCR's. What is left is the youth. Nobody can keep them indoors. They love the songs and the dances."Pranlal Mehta, producer

One man who did, and triggered a trend, was producer Pranlal Mehta with his appropriately-named Love 86. It did moderately well at the box-office during a particularly bad time for films. Many other stories with the accent on the young followed -Jawani, Ilzaam.

In a clever move, Mehta and director Esmayel Shroff introduced the present rage. Govinda, 22 , paired him with Neelam and inducted the Faasle pair, Rohan Kapoor and Farha. (Interestingly enough, the elder stars now appear to be extras in some of the new films on young love, as fathers or mothers, whether it is Tanuja in this film or Waheeda in some other). The theme was young love. The mood rebellious. Two street-smart small-time crooks fall in love with two young girls, and young means teeny boppers in this case with their frilly dresses and teddy bears. The time-worn theme of poor boy-meets-rich girl is given a little twist with the usual lip service, respect to grownups, the temple and the law thrown to the winds as the lovers battle for their love. The film is a musical with both the guys and the dolls showing a bit of leg and a lot of oomph.

The Farha-Khushboo kiss: clinching it

Love 86 is a film that reflects the changing nature of the films and stereo-types. The loving, sacrificial mother epitomised over decades by the long-suffering Nirupa Roy has a different incarnation here: Tanuja is tyrannical and tough, in fact, a meanie. The attention shifts, all of it to the foursome. The film bristles with the energy of youth and significantly not of rich youth, a film obviously targeted for the young.

Says Mehta: "We have two kinds of audiences: youth and ladies. The women-oriented subjects are good for the 12 and 3 p.m. shows. The 9 p.m. audience is now lost to television. The upper class does not go to the cinema halls because they are in such a bad state and they have their televisions and videos. What is left is the youth; nobody can keep them indoors. They love the songs and dances. The audience for this kind of film is from age nine onwards." His calculations are not unlike those of the image-making men of the prime minister. The 1984 election campaign was in large part directed towards the youth: the largest vote-bank. And so if the audience was getting younger, so must the actors. It made sense.

"It's a catch-as-catch-can situation. There are no stars today."Shyam Benegal, film director

"I like the newcomers because they are hardworking and punctual and do what you want them to do."Raj Sippy, director

Insecurity is also often the mother of invention. In the try-anything mood of the film industry today, producers believe that an unknown face, the untried formula, will turn the tide. According to one recent estimate, the industry has a total of Rs 15 crore riding on the backs of the young crop of film stars - no small sum in a situation where making movies is like playing Russian roulette. And proof of that faith lies in the fact that between them, Govinda, Mandakini, and Kimi Katkar ("I have lost count") have signed up an incredible 101 fillms, with Govinda grabbing the lion's share with 50 films by last fortnight.

As film maker Amit Khanna puts it: "There is a geriatric problem in the industry. It has lost the ability to throw up new dreams and has aged all the way down the line." What that also means is that reality has also set in and producers are discovering that Dharmendra, Shatrughan Sinha, Jeetendra and even the indomitable Amitabh, notebooks under their arms, play collegiates chasing co-eds like Hema Malini, Zeenat Aman or Rekha (all on the wrong sides of thirty) around the nearest Chinar tree without any degree of conviction or credibility. Almost overnight as it were, there is a vacuum at the top in the pantheon of stars. The big stars have begun to dim, some of them to even edge out of the galaxy, although Rekha apparently has that star quality which makes her more constant. The vacuum has occurred even amongst the vamps. Bindu had aged, Leena Das had married. Helen had long faded out. Kalpana Iyer just fizzled out. Bombay's net had to be spread as far as Pakistan to bring in the voluptuous, many-tiered Huna, now acting in a few films in India.

Mandakini: The RK doll

The invasion of youth was also speeded up by the fact that the currently popular genre of "action musicals" require the bodies to do frenetic numbers. The fight scenes are equally frenzied and paunchy middle-aged heroes flinging arms and legs and taking on a dozen villains at a time does stretch the limits of credibility.

Strangely enough, not only are the newcomers being added to what is becoming a hold-all sort of cinema, so are the stars of yester-year. It is as if a chef no longer sure of his culinary abilities or his basic ingredients, empties all the spices into the pot with the hope that something might work. Consequently, a film can have as many as four generations in it. The starlets at the bottom of the generation ladder, above them the in-between generation of Poonam Dhillon, Tina Munim and even the earlier nymphet, Padmini Kolhapure; above them, Rekha, Raakhee, Hema Malini, Zeenat Aman, who play the more mature women in their 30s; and at the top the mothers of yesterday: Nirupa Roy and Sulochana who now play grandmothers to go with the Ashok Kumars - the fathers of yesteryear and the heroes of the day before.

"You shouldn't mistake youth for innocence. The girls mature very fast these days, they see so much of life"Rajeev Kapoor, actor

"We are much more professional than before and certainly more outspoken. We work and go home. You don't have to sleep with the producers."Sonu Walia, model-actress

The Poonam Dhillons, Padmini Kolhapures and seasoned newcomers like Meenakshi Seshadri and Anita Raj are in the uneasy middle-ground: above them the stars have faded but not blinked out; below them the younger newcomers are surging upwards. An example of the four-generations-in-one film is Yash Chopra's Faasle, which has Farha coupled with Rohan Kapoor at one end of the scale and Nirupa Roy at the other with Deepti Naval at the in-between stage and Rekha, as the more mature woman who is paired with Sunil Dutt.

To fit in all these generations and mini-parade of stars, script-writers have introduced sub-plots and various permutations. Nor do the roles require a great deal of acting skill. The dream machine is now set to turn out an assembly-line production of starlets who emerge as if from one mould. Nothing much is required of them. Says Sawan Kumar: "They show off a little body. Cry a bit. Sing a song. Come in at the end, get married. And the role is over."

Inflation, coupled with the advent of television is also responsible for this mini-coup of the young ones as they glide easily from soap operas to film. Also, the glut of starlets and fledgling heroes makes them cheaper by the dozen. The women are, in fact, very rarely paid before their first film is released. They are lucky if they get Rs 25,000 after its release. Sonu Walia, the model-turned-actress and Miss India of last year, who is completing Tanvir Ahmed's Akarshan with Akbar Khan expects to get Rs 25,000 for it after the release. Rs 75,000 for the second one and Rs 1.50 lakh for the third.

Zeenat Aman

Hema: the old order

Kimi Katkar, who did not get anything for her first film, can now, after the runaway success of Tarzan, demand between Rs 2 lakh and Rs 3 lakh. For the boys, it is better, but not by much. Karan Shah was lucky with Rs 75,000 for his first Him, Jawani;normally Rs 50,000 is the going price for a male newcomer. While Sridevi is supposed to be the highest-paid actress with Rs 12 lakh per film, even her price is said to be coming down; nor can she carry a film alone.

The starlets are in demand not only for their lower prices. It is their availability which makes them attractive business propositions for the producers. Because of the changing nature of demands, there is a dearth of stars. The producers, of course, start at the top and work their way downwards. If they cannot get Mithun Chakraborty and Sridevi, they move down the line through the Kolhapures, Poonam Dhillons to the Kimi Katkars and Mandakinis and if not any of them, they find their fresh face, they discover, as Amit Khanna says, their Tarzan in Hemant Birje.

The newcomers are also easier to work with. Especially with the younger directors who are in awe of the stars. The newcomers are welcome because they do not make any fuss and are punctual - necessary virtues in an age when the costs of making films is sky-rocketing. Says Raj Sippy, on the sets of Loha in Ooty: "I like newcomers because they are hardworking and do what you want them to."

Producers are at last realising that Dharmendra, Shatrughan Sinha, Jeetendra, and Amitabh cannot play collegiates and chase co-eds like Hema Malini, Zeenat Aman and Rekha around the nearest chinar with any credibility.

Besides their professionalism, the new stars look different. Gone are the Rubenesque proportions of the likes of Asha Parekh or the chubby cheeks of Vyjayanthimala. Such looks would probably not get past an assistant producer's door. The girls are thin - those from the world of modelling positively skinny. How long they last will depend on how the mass audience takes to them. According to Sawan Kumar, who comes straight from the guts of the industry, they will not. "These new girls look like boys from sick families; they do not have any meat on their bodies." The men are macho: muscles on display and taut bodies, courtesy all the health clubs.

In this age of lost innocence they are celluloid Barbie dolls rather than the cute, roly-poly dolls who had real tummies and cheeks. They look western and dress that way too - both on and off screen. Much to the despair of evergreens like actor-producer Dharmendra, who says: "These starlets are like wheat. Twenty years ago there was less wheat but the roti from the desi kanak had some sweetness. Now we have all these hybrid varieties like Mexican, the sweetness is gone."

Govinda in Suhagan: rising star

The sari is definitely almost an extinct item: the exception rather than the rule. The starlets wear dresses and shorts, preferably white, are de rigeuer in many films being made. For the boys, there are clothes which also reveal. Says Karan Shah, who is one of the few newcomers with a sensitive face - a romantic tough if one were to label him: "Normally I wear T-shirts cut at the belly button so that the midriff shows. I also wear those banyan-type shirts cut off at the shoulders, the jeans tight-fitting."

The unorthodox dress of the youthful invaders is amply matched by their behaviour too. They are infinitely more outspoken and brazen than the stars used to be earlier. Farha and Khushboo appeared a while ago on the cover of one film magazine, their lips locked in a passionate kiss, and in their interviews with the press come across as brutally frank, if somewhat naive. Smoke n'tell, kiss n'tell appears to be the philosophy of the day. Farha does not mind posing with a bidi between her lips. And she is irrepressibly frank. "The film industry stinks," she says.

"Ten years ago, Govinda would not have even made it to the chorus line. Today he is on his way, fast to the top. He reflects the psyche of the masses."Cautam Rajadhyaksha, photographer

"What can they (producers) do? At the most, they can throw me out of their films. Let them. I am not going to sell myself for a little money. We are not starving." Adds Sonu Walia: "We are much more professional than before and certainly more outspoken. Gone are the days when women did not dare voice their opinions and had to do certain things to stay in the race. We work and go home. You don't have to sleep with the producers."

Moreover, in an industry full of illusions, these gutsy newcomers have none. Shrugs Mandakini: "I will leave the industry before it leaves me." And Farha insists that she will quit films the day she gets married. Acting is like any profession and many of them plan to leave after seven or eight years.

Rajeev and Mandakini in Ram Teri...

Katkar in Tarzan: passion play

The newcomers are also realists about the need for publicity, good or bad. Says Kimi: "It's all part of the game. At first, I used to get upset about some of the things that were written about me but the media is the most important thing for my career. The more the publicity, the better the film does. These people will write any rubbish but we have no time to sue them."

The girls are also willing to reveal more; in fact, they are refreshingly open about it. Mandakini admits that she was perfectly aware of what she would look like when Raj Kapoor made her wear a white sari with nothing underneath and then poured water over her. "I will do it again if Mr Kapoor asks me, after all, I have done my first picture with him... but nobody else.'' Kissing is also not taboo; "I would try not to, but if the role required it, yes I would."

Hypocrisy, in its gentler incarnation called coyness, is out. In the past the purdah between public and private lives was not only thick but always pulled across. What went on behind was known only to those in the industry circles; this world was closed in on itself. Meena Kumari's battles with the bottle or the affairs of Dev Anand, the venerable Dilip Kumar or Raj Kapoor with their heroines were mere whispers which only added to the mystique of these stars.

"I would try not to kiss on screen but if the role required it I would."Mandakini, actress

"These starlets are like wheat. Twenty years ago there was less wheat but the roti from the desi kanak had some sweetness. Now we have all these hybrid varieties like Mexican, the sweetness is gone."Dharmendra, actor

Today some of the starlets embroider their private lives with titillating threads to satisfy the ever-curious film magazines. Often, they simulate affairs with their screen partners for the benefit of these magazines and in the larger interest of publicity. Kimi Katkar, the bare-almost-all Tarzan girl is romancing Sunjay Dutt in print; she is slated to appear with him in a few Alms. When we see her on the sets of a film with Govinda, there is hardly a word exchanged between the two: he remains ensconced with his friends in his makeup room and she downstairs with her mother. But the moment the photographers appear, the cooing and lovey-dovey vibes come on heavy.

Says Amit Khanna: "If Stardust had not come around, this mystique would have been dumped; peephole journalism has unnecessarily given a sheen to these stars. Imagine over 500 magazines and these young people even start believing that kind of shit."

Life, and work, for the fledgeling stars is certainly no bowl of cherries. The day starts at dawn and they are on the sets till late evening, bunny-hopping from one shift to another with little time for privacy or friends. Says Mandakini: "I don't go out with anybody. Just my family. I don't have time for friends." Most of them come from middle class backgrounds and live and commute from tiny bed-sitters in the suburbs of the city which reveal their one concession to their youth - cuddly teddy bears and comics.

Their intellectual diet is limited to film magazines which they duly condemn but compulsively read, and comics. Mandakini says she used to read "classics like Harold Robbins and Sidney Sheldon". Most of them are also dropouts from school. Mandakini left school in the tenth standard. Neelam quit school at the same level, and so did Khushboo. Sabia dropped out in the ninth standard and childhood also got dropped somewhere along the line between the nursery and the arc lights. She has a determined glint in her eyes when she insists that she wants to be a star ("I want to be like Sridevi").

She is already frustrated (her word) at 14: "I am 14 until the day I turn 15, not a day sooner... as each day goes by I begin to feel older. I want to shoot every day. I feel that life is passing me by." Her only contact with her childhood are her toys and books: "I like the Famous Five series and Secret Seven, and of course Richie Rich," but the minute the photographer turns on the lights and begins to click, she is transformed into a sultry, seductive and voluptuous little Lolita.

"As each day goes by, I begin to feel older, I want to shoot every day. I feel that life is passing me by."Sabia

"I like the Famous Five series and the Secret Seven, and of course Richie Rich."Sabia,14-year-old actress

Sixteen is no longer so sweet in tinseltown; the silver lining on the cotton candy clouds of the starry teenagers is indeed dark, with desperate producers looking for younger and younger faces, but mature bodies, each year. Says Rajeev Kapoor, Raj Kapoor's youngest son, who starred opposite Mandakini in Ram Teri Ganga Maili: "You shouldn't mistake youth for innocence. The girls mature very fast these days. They see so much of life.''

The young blood may fade out as fast as they have appeared on screen. For the moment, however, they have become an integral part of Bombay's film factory - the new princes and princesses of the silver screen and adolescent heirs to the Royal House of Illusion.

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